


taught by thirst

by onbeinganangel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Choking, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Facials, I am sorry but harry is nothing but a plot device in this, M/M, Teasing, a hint of d/s dynamics, and i mean teasing that happens in the presence of oblivious family members, face fucking, the rest is a bonus, these two are very smitten for each other okay, they take a shower but nothing about this is clean, use of metamorphmagi abilities for unconventional purposes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:54:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27099949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onbeinganangel/pseuds/onbeinganangel
Summary: James has always adored Teddy.A very particular way he adores Teddy is on a Saturday morning because on Saturday mornings, Teddy goes for a long broomstick ride.Teddy goes for a long ride and comes back sometimes dusty, sometimes muddy, sometimes wet, but always covered in sweat and looking absolutely mouth-watering.
Relationships: Teddy Lupin/James Sirius Potter
Comments: 30
Kudos: 163
Collections: HP Suds Fest 2020





	taught by thirst

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ladderofyears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/gifts).



> [ladderofyears’](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/works) darling prompt was a sweet, wholesome ‘Character A has been for a long broomstick ride. They come back all sweaty and dusty. Character B strips them naked and washes them all clean.’ 
> 
> I have 0 excuses for this level of debauchery. In my defense, I had every intention of making this just a good long snog in the shower. The rest just… happened. 
> 
> The title is from Emily Dickinson’s short but wonderful poem “Water, is taught by thirst” and I must thank [crimsonheadache](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonheadache/pseuds/crimsonheadache/works) and [chuckal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChuckAl/works) for helping beta read this because I was massively insecure about it all, my comma placement was (as per usual) wild and this wouldn’t have happened without them!
> 
> Big love and a massive thank you to the lovely Sudsfest mods for this fest that was so up my street I could not resist taking part!

James has always adored Teddy. 

In fact, one of his earliest memories is of himself, sitting on the doorstep to the back garden in Grimmauld Place, shouting every colour he could think of (luckily for Teddy, not many, at that age) while a nine or ten-year-old Teddy changes his hair and tries to keep up. 

“ _Red! Blue! Now pink! Green! Red! Do blue again! Errrr, yellow, Ted! Red! I said red! That’s orange, Ted! Now do like dad!”_ And as soon as Teddy’s soft, short hair morphs into raven black messy curls, little James dissolves into delighted squeals and laughter. He loves that memory. He loves Teddy then - he can feel it whenever he dips his head into the pensieve for this particular moment: the joy he feels around Teddy, the happiness, the ecstasy.

Of course, that love has taken many forms in his twenty-four years of life: it started that way, soft, simple, almost fraternal love, slowly growing into adoration as he grew up hearing stories from Teddy’s adventures at Hogwarts, heart bursting every Christmas, Spring and Summer break that he’d get to see Teddy, play with him and hear more about the school he couldn’t wait to go to.

James’ memories of his first year are sprinkled with a tall blue-haired Teddy with his yellow and black tie messily done around his neck and Head Boy badge pinned upside down to his robes. A Teddy that calls him “Potter” or even “Mr. Potter” and says he’ll “have to take points for that” just for an excuse to pull James away from his Gryffindor friends. Teddy introduces him to every secret passage, enlists James to help out with ridiculous pranks no First Year should be getting involved in and teaches him how to sweet talk the elves in the kitchens to give him leftover pudding after meals. 

But then Teddy isn’t at Hogwarts anymore, and James realises he loves Hogwarts, but maybe he loves Teddy more.

When he’s twelve, he can’t bear the thought of his cousin Victoire. Where he is concerned, she is the _worst_ person ever to exist since Voldemort. And even then, he knows, rationally, that Voldemort was pretty _bad_ , but he never really knew him, so who’s to say Victoire isn’t objectively worse? She sits at the Gryffindor table and giggles amongst a flock of gross teenage girls, reading her favourite parts from the letter she got from Teddy out loud. There’s no owl for James that morning, and he’s suddenly not feeling very hungry after all. 

At thirteen, James comes out to his parents. He thinks he didn’t know how he felt about Teddy then, but he isn’t sure. If he did, subconsciously, it certainly didn’t stop him from snogging plenty of boys in the Prefects’ Bathroom or down on the Quidditch pitch for his last three years at Hogwarts. 

He doesn’t know when his obsession with Teddy started. He’s convinced it was always there, in a way. He doesn’t remember when he first thought Teddy was beautiful - if you ask him, he’s thought Teddy was beautiful his entire life. 

He does, however, remember the first time he thought Teddy was _fucking fit_ because it was summer, and Teddy was playing Quidditch with the family at the Burrow. James had just turned fifteen and the thought short-circuited his brain. He’d ditched his broom on the grass and ran to the kitchen where Grandma offered him a glass of lemonade. He sat there for the length of two whole games pretending he wasn’t incredibly confused and a little ashamed by the whole thing.

Almost five whole years after that realisation hit him, Teddy is twenty-six, has a job that he loves, is still bad at Quidditch but looks like a Greek god on a broom, and James realises it’s never going to happen. James makes peace with it. He’s meeting with club managers every other day and he’s bound to get signed soon and become a professional Quidditch player, just like his mum used to be. There’s plenty of men interested in him, and he just needs to get over this life-long crush on his godbrother. Which, in an ironic twist of fate, is when Teddy starts flirting back. 

They still spend another two years making eyes at one another over the dinner table. Going for drinks and awkwardly going their separate ways, after unsure touches with trembling hands. It all very nearly comes crashing down quite spectacularly when James inevitably moves into Teddy’s little cottage, not quite realising when he does what sharing a bathroom with Teddy entails. As it turns out, sharing a bathroom with Teddy has quite dire consequences, such as dying inside every time his housemate has a shower and shamelessly walks around the house with just a towel wrapped around his hips.

On James’ twenty-second birthday, they stumble back through the Floo after too much cake and too much booze and probably _too much family,_ and Teddy finally asks James if it’s alright if he kisses him. It is a kiss - James has kissed people before - and yet, it is unlike anything he’s ever experienced. Because _it’ s Teddy_ , he realises. 

They never go back from that.

When they finally tell their family and friends that they’re dating, the only surprise is that everyone seems to think they’ve been together for years instead of a handful of months.

James has always adored Teddy. 

The past couple of years have only helped add many nuances and possibilities to the countless ways he adores Teddy.

A very particular way he adores Teddy is on a Saturday morning.

Apart from the mid-season break in winter and his blissful twelve weeks for summer, James doesn’t get Saturdays off. He doesn’t like complaining about it - there are a lot of perks to playing Quidditch professionally. James loves his job. If he’s being honest, the fact that he doesn’t get to enjoy Saturdays often is why he loves them so much. That and the fact that, on Saturday mornings, Teddy goes for a long broomstick ride. 

Teddy goes for a long ride and comes back sometimes dusty, sometimes muddy, sometimes wet, but _always_ covered in sweat and looking _absolutely mouth-watering_. 

Teddy hasn’t once asked about this fixation of James, thank Merlin, because he doesn’t quite know how he’d explain it. He spends at least five days a week, at least thirty-eight weeks a year surrounded by stinky, sweat covered, dirty, fit quidditch players, often in various degrees of undress in locker rooms. But he’s not remotely interested in any of his teammates. 

Yet the moment Teddy walks into the house, broomstick in hand, his quidditch trousers sticking to him a little extra from sweat, his hair all windswept, his long fingers poking out of his fingerless gloves, _James melts_. Add a thousand points to Hufflepuff when he comes home wearing James’ Puddlemere U jersey. 

It may have something to do with how different Teddy looks a little dirty and mussed up when compared to his soft jeans, cardigans and woolly jumpers he wears for work. Junior Pediatric Mind Healer Lupin is a darling caramel bonbon in a bright, sparkly wrapper. Teddy Lupin, who comes home to James, sweaty and dirty in his flying gear every Saturday, is a whole different story. 

Teddy hasn’t asked about it, but he knows what it does to him. He knows that the moment he walks into the house, James will be all over him, lips attached to his skin, hands under his t-shirt. James knows this because he’s pretty sure Teddy is now playing with the whole situation. Experimenting. Figuring out what drives James crazy the most. 

The first week after the end of the Quidditch season, Teddy went for a ride over the cliffs, by the sea, coming back home a little damp and deliciously salty. The week after, he’d decided on a low ride in the woods and came back smelling of Christmas and earth and wind. Then there was the time he went for a ride on a scorching hot Saturday blessed with blue skies and came back a little red on the nose with his t-shirt sticking to his chest in the most inviting way. And just last week, he’d gone for a ride in the rain, coming back wet and muddy, every item of clothing begging to be peeled off his freezing cold body.

Whatever he goes for, it more or less ends the same way: Teddy gets home, James practically jumps on him, helps Teddy out of his dirty/sweaty/wet clothes and gets in the shower with him. 

James anxiously waits to find out what he’s gone for today: it isn’t raining, so unless he’s Apparated far for a ride, he can’t expect a wet Teddy. It doesn’t matter. James just needs for him to get home, ideally sooner rather than later, because thinking about it is almost as distracting as the actual thing.

There’s a slow, steady thrumming of his blood, feeding his half-hard cock. He does try not to get too turned on before Teddy even makes it home, but some days there’s just no use. It’s all Teddy’s fault, anyway.

He adjusts himself, the friction both _so_ welcome and pure torture at the same time. He considers, for a minute, if he could get away with having a quick, practical wank just to take the edge off before Teddy gets home. 

He’s just about to put his hand in his pants when he hears the door open and the sound of Teddy’s scuffed Quidditch boots he could honestly afford to replace now on the welcome mat, and he whips his head around to smile at Teddy… and his dad.

His dick may as well grow inwards with how quickly it wilts.

_Bloody hell._

“Hey, Jamie! Look who I bumped into!” Teddy says, beaming at him.

“Hi, James!” His dad says.

He wants to hit Teddy. And _not_ in a kinky way.

He’s trying his best not to look at Teddy, but he can’t help but notice he’s wearing James’ away kit t-shirt, the intense mustard yellow somehow even more offensive than usual when put against Teddy’s bright blue hair. 

“Tea, everyone?” Teddy asks, and that, at least, gives him something to do. He hops off the sofa in one swift movement and walks towards their little kitchen. Dad gives him an awkward half-hug, because he’s as emotionally constipated as always and doesn’t know how to act if there isn’t a Weasley or a Malfoy present to keep him in check. Teddy plants a wet kiss on his cheek, but James is still avoiding looking at him directly. 

They make tea side by side on the counter - a practised routine: Teddy puts the kettle on and grabs biscuits while James pulls three mismatched mugs out of the cupboard and pops the tea bags in them, then Teddy pours the water into the mugs and James stirs. While the tea brews, Teddy gets the milk and James grabs for the sugar jar. There is a magic stronger than magic in this, the two of them at home - _their home_ \- doing ordinary tasks. 

It’s the kind of thing James loses himself in often - the familiarity, the openness, the distinct lack of chaos when compared to his own childhood at Grimmauld Place. It warms his heart, but he’s currently more concerned about the fact that he can _smell_ the wind on Teddy’s skin as he leans over and pours the milk into the mugs. _God_. He would very much like to climb his boyfriend like a tree, but his dad is making himself comfortable at their kitchen table and asking James if he’s resting properly and making the most of his summer.

James nods. He could do with everyone he knows not asking about his dodgy leg or his resting or if he’s doing his exercises. He’s trying to teach himself that life is more than Quidditch and no one is helping. 

He drinks his tea with little interest and in complete silence while Teddy and his dad are having some deep conversation about _something -_ he probably couldn’t tell anyone what they’re actually talking about if he was asked. 

He’s sitting across the table from the other two, which is both a great move on his part, because it means he can no longer smell the saltiness of Teddy’s skin he so badly wants to taste, and the most disastrous idea because he can’t really avoid looking at Teddy anymore. He tries, he _really_ does. He looks down at his mug, he watches the birds pick at Teddy’s beloved figs on their tree outside and, if he wasn’t so focused on avoiding looking at Teddy directly, he probably would have seen it coming. 

He’s sipping his tea quietly, pretending he’s following the conversation when Teddy’s toes touch the inside of his knee. James chokes a little, which makes the other two look at him with very contrasting looks on their faces. Dad looks worried, Teddy looks smug. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He coughs. “Tea went down the wrong way, is all.” He’s praying that his dad stops looking at him because Teddy takes no time at all to follow the seam of his joggers all the way to his crotch and plant his heel firmly against James’ newly re-awakened prick. 

He holds James’ gaze as he does, casually, because Dad is still babbling away about something that happened at Draco’s clinic, where Teddy works, a few weeks back. James doesn’t know how he does it. Teddy looks so natural, so at peace, like the look he’s giving James is just usual everyday eye contact and not a burning “I want you naked and on your knees within thirty seconds.” Oh, the things he could make James do with only that look. The things _he has_ made James do with only that look. 

He licks his lips, eyes still on James’ and puts a tiny little bit more pressure on his foot before looking at Dad again and continuing the conversation. _The wanker._

He really, really should have seen it coming. This is Teddy’s _party trick_. No matter how many times James has explained it is slightly weird because “I know how long your leg is and it’s _not that_ long”, Teddy knows what it does to James and he’s used it in his favour a few times. He doesn’t look at James again. Just holds his foot there, a delicious torture device, like it’s the most normal thing to do while he’s holding his cup with both _still gloved_ hands halfway to his mouth and laughing at something James’ dad has just said. 

Not content with offering his dad a cup of tea and prolonging his presence in their house, as soon as said tea has been drunk, Teddy cheerfully asks “Do you want to shower here, Harry? Let me get you a towel,” pulling his chair back. His foot finally dislodges from James’ crotch, but not without Teddy giving him a wink when his dad looks the other way. It’s immediate relief and a terrible loss, at the same time. 

And that’s when he gets it. This was part of Teddy’s game all along. This is his move for the week: after the sea, the pine, the sweat and the sunburn, the all-the-way-to-the-bones wet, he’s brought his dad along just to watch James suffer and squirm while unable to do absolutely anything about it. _How is the fucker even a Hufflepuff?_

The most annoying thing is that he is absolutely furious at Teddy for his cheek, but he’s also growing more and more desperate. It’s his dad’s voice that stirs him from the rage growing inside him. “No, no, don’t worry about it, kid. Malfoy will have my hide if I’m not home, showered and dressed soon.”

Well, thank fuck for that. He knows there’s nothing in the world now that will make him lose his erection so he casually adjusts himself as subtly as he can before standing up, too, gathering the mugs on the table and putting them in the sink.

The next few minutes are a bit of a blur. His dad asking if he’s seen Mum recently, James nodding, incapable of making words work, too scared that if he opens his mouth he’ll be unable to stop himself from saying _“Teddy, please.”_ Teddy telling Dad they had dinner at _Gin’s_ on Tuesday, but they may be at the Burrow tomorrow, they’re not sure what their plans are yet. Dad saying maybe he’ll see them tomorrow, then. Maybe next week. James just nodding, again. 

“You are resting, aren’t you, love? Taking care of that leg? You were pushing yourself a bit ragged by the end of the season,” his Dad says. 

_I am resting, Dad, I just want you to bugger off so my boyfriend and I can shag,_ he thinks.

 _“_ Don’t worry, Dad. Still sleepy. My schedule is a bit messed up now,” he says. It’s not a lie, _not really_. Dad hugs him again. Properly this time. James hugs him back as well as he can while bright red flashing sirens go off in his head because he’s desperately trying to keep his dick from touching his dad and that’s _just gross._

He lifts his eyes and Teddy is giving him the most evil, hottest look from behind his dad’s shoulder - like he knows exactly what James is thinking and he’s enjoying witnessing this torture James is going through.

He is going to die, he’s certain. Just right there, at the ripe age of twenty-four, on a bright summer’s Saturday morning, at Lupin Cottage, where he lives with his boyfriend. Right there, in front of his dad and aforementioned boyfriend. His tombstone will read “Here lies James Sirius Potter, dead from not being able to take the most minimal amount of teasing.”

Dad grabs his broom and Apparates with a soft pop, after a quick “Thanks for the tea, kids, see you later,” and, as soon as he does, Teddy is on him, the way James is usually on Teddy when he comes home on a Saturday. 

“Someone’s needy,” he murmurs into James' neck, body pressed flat against his, mouth to neck, chest to chest, hip to hip. 

“Fuck,” says James, “you’re evil.” But he doesn’t really mean it, does he? His arms reach for Teddy’s neck, gripping, pulling Teddy’s mouth down to his, hands moving slowly to Teddy’s hair, still a little sticky with sweat. Teddy’s mouth is paradise, is much-needed relief, is an oasis in the middle of the desert.

“Jamie,” Teddy says in between kisses. “Jamie.” And then his hands grab James’ hips, thumbs above the waistline of his joggers, touching his skin. They’re just thumbs (and the tiniest hint of worn leather) on hip bones but the direct skin contact makes James shudder. “We can’t have you coming in your pants like you’re fourteen,” Teddy says, pushing James’ hips back against the kitchen counter, away from the delicious friction, putting a stop to his frantic rubbing, far enough that they’re not touching but he can probably still feel James’ cock twitching, a hair’s breadth away from touching his own. _Good fucking god._

He keeps James there. Hands pressing just slightly, James not daring to move more than his mouth. “You are so hot, Jamie. So fucking hot. I thought you were going to break, you know. Harry is so oblivious, I can’t believe it.” He chuckles, darkly. “I could see your little brain going, the cogs turning slowly. You’re so easy to read, Jamie. And I know exactly what you want to do to me.” Every word is stressed with an open-mouthed kiss, or a quick tweak to the nipple, or the lightest touch to James’ thighs, or a deep suck on his neck, or a nip at his earlobe.

Teddy is evil, James wants to tell him. Evil. Wicked. Dirty. Villainous, even. Monstrous. A crooked, dastardly, heinous, devilish bastard. But instead he gasps. _“What? Tell me.”_

Teddy laughs, it reverberates against James’ throat. _Evil. Wicked. Dirty._ “What? You don’t think I know? You want me to tell you what you want to do? That’s easy, Jamie. It’s what you’ve done every single Saturday for the past five weeks.” Teddy grabs his hips again and James whimpers, softly. “So fucking needy. Turn around.” And James does. “Put your hands on the counter.” And James does. 

“You’re so sexy. I could have made you come with my foot, under the table. I could have made you come right there in front of your dad.” 

A long, desperate breath whooshes out of James. _Evil. Wicked. Dirty._ That really, really shouldn’t be that hot. 

“I know you were sitting on the settee waiting for me. I know you were waiting to jump on me and get me naked and wash me and suck me off in the shower, maybe convince me to fuck you.” He whispers into James’ ear, all while holding his hands flat against the counter under his, rubbing his trapped cock against James’ arse.

And god, why does he know? Why oh why does he know?

“Is that it, Jamie? Is that what you want?” _Evil. Wicked. Dirty._ “Tell me.”

 _“Teddy, please.”_ He doesn’t mean to beg, not really.

Teddy lets go of his hands, the pressure against his back and arse leaves and he feels bereft at the loss. Teddy pats his bum playfully.

“Go on. Bathroom.”

He may as well run with how fast he heads up the stairs to the bedroom, tossing his white t-shirt on the bed as he walks straight to the ensuite. He regains a little bit of his sense then, knowing it’s finally happening. “C’mon, Teddy,” he whines at his boyfriend. He’s only seconds behind James, but well, James has been waiting a while.

“Impatient little shit,” Teddy says, finally reaching the threshold, but not quite crossing it into the bathroom. He’s still in his full flying gear and James finally let’s himself _look_. _Properly, this time_. 

He starts at the bottom. At the stupidly bright red socks that had been firmly lodged against his cock for the worst, most painful cup of tea of his life. The socks are tucked into muggle running leggings with loose gym shorts over. A bit of an overkill for a hot summer’s day, but Teddy does leave the house stupidly early. Plus, he looks _fucking good_. It does mean you can only get a hint of his hard cock - in the back of his mind, James thinks this is further proof that his theory was right and that it was all planned. 

His calves look insane, the tight leggings hugging _everything_ and James has never wished he was a piece of clothing before but there really is a first time for everything. James is a little shorter (not quite Potter short, not quite Weasley tall) than Teddy, although a little stockier - the perfect seeker build, according to both The Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly. 

Teddy does, however, have slightly broader shoulders than James and James’ Quidditch jersey, while a little loose around Teddy’s waist, is stretched tight around Teddy’s chest and shoulders. He no longer has that slight sweat sheen on his neck and forehead that he had when he walked into the house ready to torture James into madness, but his hair is pointing in several different directions at the same time, his usually perfectly coiffed blue fringe stuck against his forehead.

When James has had his fill, he finally looks Teddy in the eye again. A slow grin spreads over Teddy’s face. _Evil. Wicked. Dirty._

“Go on, then,” says Teddy. The things that just his voice make James feel. It’s unfair. “Go on.” Gravelly, rough, _low._

James retrieves his wand from his joggers and flicks it at the shower, turning it on. The sound of the shower running while Teddy is in the room pretty much pulls a Pavlovian reaction out of his dick these days. 

Then he steps forward. Teddy is still casually leaning against the doorframe, that Machiavellian smile still slapped on his face. It only takes three steps for him to stop in front of his boyfriend. Close enough to touch, but he stops himself. He doesn’t know where to start. T-shirt first? Nibble across his collarbones? Lap at his nipples? Lick a path down his tummy, through his treasure trail? Shorts and leggings? Peel them off Teddy’s legs, run his fingers down his toned thighs, grab his strong calves, his perfect arse?

James just stands, so Teddy reaches out first. It’s a soft tap on James’ bare foot with his own sock-clad foot, but it sets it all into motion. James kneels. Teddy releases a gust of air, suddenly. James thinks he’s surprised. He didn’t expect James to kneel. _Good._

He grabs at Teddy’s legging-covered calves, rakes his fingernails in a downward motion, gently. Just enough to make sure Teddy feels it through the fabric. He gets to Teddy’s ankles and moves both hands to the right one. He grabs Teddy’s sock and rolls it off, slowly. Squeezes Teddy’s foot very briefly. Then he moves and does the same on the left side.

He pulls at the hem of Teddy’s shorts, thinking they’ll be loose enough over the leggings to let themselves be pulled down. Teddy lets out a small choked noise when they catch on his cock and James has to grab at the elastic to release them all the way down to the floor. Teddy steps out of the shorts by taking a small step forward, which means James’ face is practically on his cock, and, well, James isn’t going to say no to that.

He puts his open mouth over the shape of Teddy’s dick through his leggings and realises immediately that Teddy is _not wearing underwear. The thought alone just about finishes him then._

“Thought you’d want to get in the shower at some point.” Teddy says, nonchalant as always. You wouldn’t know the man was about to get his soul sucked out through his prick. _Evil. Wicked. Dirty._

He holds out a hand and helps James up. The other hand goes straight to James’ hair and pulls him into a kiss. James doesn’t waste any time getting his hands under Teddy’s _(well, his)_ t-shirt, hands holding his sides, moving up and down his chest, leaving faint red trails where his fingernails dig in a little too hard. He pulls at it until Teddy lifts his arms and allows him to pull it over his head and chuck it on the floor. 

He knows Teddy is not playing anymore because he opens the fastenings on his gloves with his teeth and takes them off quickly and immediately goes for his leggings, peeling them off slowly but efficiently. It happens every single time, and James is still not used to it. As soon as Teddy is fully naked in front of him, his hair changes to a natural light brown, soft and shiny. James loves it. The blue suits Teddy’s personality - fun, sunny, bright, playful - the human embodiment of a golden retriever puppy. But this brown, what Teddy supposes is his _natural_ colour, is just James’. No one else gets to see Teddy like this, ever. It also suits Teddy’s more commanding _(evil, wicked, dirty)_ personality when it comes to sex. He’s changed it before during sex, purposefully. He’s changed all manner of things about himself before, just for the kick of it. But this is what drives James’ crazy the most. _His Teddy._

Teddy gestures at James’ joggers with an unreadable look on his face. “Off,” he says. And off they come. Teddy could ask anything of him. _Anything._

They hop into the shower. Slowly - and that’s definitely not a decision James has made. But Teddy sets the pace. Teddy does the talking. Teddy says “get in” and he gets in, Teddy says “under the water”, and he gets under the water, letting it wash some of the tension away, leaving only delicious, desperate suspense. Teddy says “don’t even think about touching yourself”, so he doesn’t. Teddy then grabs the shampoo, while James just watches. He squeezes a generous dollop of the fruit smelling stuff onto the palm of his hand and gets to work. James just watches, aware that his cock is impossibly hard now. He watches the cloudy foam form as Teddy works it into his soft hair, partially ducking under the water, getting it wetter, making small bubbles trickle down his neck, his back, his bum.

It would be sweet if James wasn’t so amped up. Teddy finishes with his hair, which flickers blue for a second or two before going back to brown, and grabs for a clean washcloth, soaking it under the stream and squeezing some body wash onto it. He passes it to James. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? What you’ve been thinking of?” James merely nods. “Get to it then.”

He starts at the top this time. Teddy’s neck, behind his ears, his shoulders. He draws small circles with the cotton washcloth, releasing the tension there, the way his PT does after matches. He moves from shoulders to arms, all the way down to Teddy’s hands and back up, both sides. He moves the soft soapy fabric over Teddy’s chest, his pink nipples, down his stomach. This is his favourite part of Saturdays. This is what he loves so much. He tries not to rush it - it’s a struggle, but he manages. He washes every little bit of Teddy. 

He’s on his knees rubbing the washcloth carefully over Teddy’s shins, ankles, and feet; feeling the warm water trickle down Teddy’s body - a steady stream from the end of his fingers falling on James’ shoulder, droplets of clean water dripping from Teddy’s heavy prick. James closes his eyes to protect them from the water and lifts his head. He wonders if… “Don’t get any ideas,” says Teddy, clearly knowing the inner workings of James’ brain.

_Damn him._

“Up you come, before you do something naughty,” he says, helping him back onto his feet. Teddy grabs the washcloth from him and takes to washing James. Softly, slowly, taking his time, avoiding every single place that James so desperately wants touched, whispering to him as he goes. “So pretty, Jamie.” “You’re gorgeous.” “Look at you.”

He’s probably using too much soap. James feels it on his skin. Velvety and smooth, the washcloth both slick and rough from all the soap and the natural texture of the fabric. 

“Fuck, Jamie,” Teddy says, finally dropping the soggy washcloth, which makes a squelching sound when it hits the bottom of the shower. Teddy steps forward as the water washes the rest of the soap from James’ body, cock slotting nicely against James’ arse. His hand snakes around James’ body, grabbing his prick for one, delicious but quick stroke, then up his stomach and straight for his neck. He squeezes once, making James let out a small whine, squeezes twice and James moans, unabashedly. “I could eat you.”

And at that, James finds his voice. “You could.”

Teddy has to move his hands to James’ hips at the first stroke of his tongue. “Hey, you’re gonna have to hold yourself up for me here, babe,” Teddy says, with a playful bite to his arse. “Hold on to the shelf, will you?” James moves his hands to the little shelf, almost knocking numerous bottles down. 

Teddy may be _evil, wicked and dirty, but he’s definitely thorough,_ James thinks, as Teddy’s tongue breaches his rim and he loses the grip on the shelf for a moment. 

_“Fuck, Teddy. Ffuuuuuck.”_

Teddy moans and redoubles his efforts. Thank Godric there aren’t any neighbours for many, many miles around Lupin Cottage, because James is a mess of moans and loud rude expletives after only a few minutes. 

A finger of Teddy’s joins his tongue and James is grateful his brain hasn’t completely turned to mush just yet and he manages to take himself in hand and squeeze until it almost hurts to keep himself from coming. _He’s waited long enough, he’ll have to last until the main event._

Teddy replaces his tongue with a second finger and raises to his feet again, his left hand going back to its place around James’ throat. “What do you want, baby?” His breath tickles against James’ neck, against his ear, sending little shivers of pleasure, as if his fingers battering against his prostate and the steady if light pressure around his neck wasn’t enough.

_“God.”_

“Do you want to come like this?”

James is too far gone for an answer, but Teddy keeps going. “Or do you want me to fuck you?” Teddy seems to think the loud cry that escapes James’ mouth is enough of an answer, because James feels the effects of a lube spell just before the head of Teddy’s cock presses against him.

_God._

It doesn’t take James long at all to come after that. Teddy’s brutal - he knows he can be, knows that’s what James wants. Not that James thinks he’s making sense at all. He’s saying words, that’s for certain, but the only thing that makes sense is Teddy’s hand around his neck, the relentless pressure against his prostate, Teddy’s not-so-steady-anymore voice in his ear. “You’re so good, Jamie. So good.” Or, “I’m going to take you on the fucking kitchen table next week, just pull your pants down, bend you over and have you, shower be damned.” And, “can you take a little more, baby?”

James isn’t _entirely sure_ what he’s answering but he moans a broken yes, and he finds out very quickly that it very much was the right answer. The weight becomes unbearable for a good few seconds and, before he can even register that Teddy’s cock has definitely become larger inside him, he’s coming, with Teddy’s whispers of “That’s it, that’s it, shit, Jamie, fuck, so good.”

He’s still seeing stars behind his eyes when Teddy pulls out. It burns like hell, but he knows he’d do it all again. Teddy turns him around, hands around his waist, and kisses him. The warm water feels good, he registers, a little more lucid now that he has come. He’d forgotten they were even in the shower for a good few seconds. Teddy presses him against the cool tile and kisses him, rutting against his slowly softening dick.

Teddy stops, looks James in the eye, swallowing hard. He kisses James thoroughly with his lips still hot and red and puffy from earlier. 

Teddy says “on your knees” and he gets on his knees, Teddy says “open up” and, to be fair, James’ mouth was already half open in anticipation, but he opens it as far as it will go, sticks his tongue out just a little. He finds himself, even more than earlier, thinking Teddy could ask anything of him. _Anything._

He looks up at Teddy’s face and then at his heavy cock in front of his face, then back at Teddy. “Do you mind?” James says, gesturing vaguely towards the monstrously sized thing. 

“What? Can’t handle it? I’d say you just did,” Teddy retorts, with one of his smirks.

Jesus, he’s such a knob. But James is not about to say no.

He lets Teddy grab his hair, in a surprisingly tender manner, and press forward. James gags, but feels Teddy’s cock go back to its normal size while lodged deep in his throat. Just to prove a fucking point. _Insufferable metamorphmagi._

He knows the telltale signs that Teddy is close, so he grabs at his balls, fondling gently, pulling a little, lets his jaw go as slack as possible, and allows Teddy to fuck into him hard and fast.

Teddy unexpectedly pulls out and takes himself in hand in earnest now - this isn’t a slow, teasing touch - Teddy quite obviously has a goal and James hopes it is what he wants it to be.

“I’m going to come on your face, baby, do you want that?”

 _Fuck. Yes._ James nods enthusiastically, mouth still open, tongue flat against his bottom lip.

He feels the first drop fall just on his cheek, then a second one right next to his open mouth, and thinks _maybe they’ll have to have a proper wash, again, after this._

It isn’t until Teddy is wrapping a towel around James’ shoulders and grabbing a second one for himself, carelessly drying his hair with it, that he says, “I almost got Draco instead of your dad.” 

James makes a wild choking sound. “EXCUSE ME, WHAT!?”

“Well, first I thought if you did get a little flustered, it’d be less weird because you’re not related to Draco. Then I realised that 1) Draco would have realised something was up, he’s not as oblivious as your dad, and 2) I know that you think Draco’s ho-”

“I am going to need you to stop right there. Jesus. You are a fucking menace, Edward.” 

“You’re not denying it,” Teddy sings, with a cheeky smile.

James crosses his arms over his chest and glares. “I don’t want to fuck my dad’s boyfriend!” 

“I didn’t say anything about fucking him. That was all you.” 

“You are _such a wanker,_ ” he says, but laughs.

“And you love me.”

“God knows why.”


End file.
